the arugula files

Graduation Time and Picking Crabs at L.P.Steamers in Baltimore

My sister Noel is an MFA.  That's a Master of Fine Art for the uninitiated.  Impressed?  I am.  This past weekend my family packed into MICA's auditorium and survived a two hour commencement.  119 and 57 seconds of academic speeches.  Three seconds of my sister walking across the big stage. 

Totally worth it. 

After the commencement we treated ourselves to dinner at L.P.Steamers, a Baltimore dive where locals go to pick crabs and drink gold beer from flimsy plastic cups. 

The Vietnamese Meatballs At ShopHouse Are Crazy Delicious (Lucky Peach Magazine: Not So Much)

 

As soon as I heard about ShopHouse Southeast Asian Kitchen,  the new concept by Chipotle's founder Steve Ells, I had high hopes for the "Asian Chipotle," mostly because it's close to my office. It's convenience food that's conveniently located (for me anyway).  

I didn't expect it to be crazy delicious.  

I mean it's Asian fast food, and, quite frankly, while I'll eat at Chipotle, I don't love, love it.  I much prefer Baja Fresh, if I'm comparing apples to apples, and if I'm comparing apples to oranges, I would much rather eat tacos here or here.  So I was really surprised that Shophouse's Vietnamese offerings are full of flavor.  Like the flavor just reaches out and grabs you.  Then it makes you do the truffle shuffle.

A Lovely Night Out at Fiola

Photo: Abby Greenawalt

As we walked through the Fiola dining room, my friend Bridget loudly announced, "well this is a stodgy crowd." Just kidding, it was me who made the loud announcement.  Bridget was telling me to shhh.  I just want to see if she reads this blog. 

No matter who said it, it was true.  Fiola, on a Tuesday night, was filled with the only people who eat expensive dinners on a Tuesday night: lobbyist and maybe a few members of Congress wearing those pins on their lapels.  A lot of suits, in other words.  Then came us.  Three women, with babies recently tucked in their cribs, who escaped for a big night out.  While the lobbyist made deals, we talked developmental milestones, like giggling and rolling over.  Oh boy, we were ready for some Chef Fabio, and, wow, he did not disappoint. 

To start I enjoyed the Nantucket bay scallops with chanterelles and light as a feather meatballs with a fried egg on top.  For dinner, a delicate plate of cod filled gnocchi straddled by smoky, baby octopus.  To end the meal: sugary, warm donuts with cream. 

Every morsel of food was exceptional.  As in, moan-out-loud-in-a-stodgy-crowd good.  Oh, and how could I forget those ginormous, flaky popovers? The ones the waiters generously kept bringing more of until I reminded them that I recently had a baby, and, you know, I would like to fit into my old clothes someday, which somehow I forgot as I kept eating said popovers and then, Doh!, ordered donuts.  

I'm not one for fancy, or, as some people call it, refined Italian. Moreover,  I don't like foam, especially if it costs a lot, but I think Fiola's unique flavor combinations and exquisite detailing make it a stand out. The restaurant's dishes are more complex than raviolis filled with expensive ingredients or truffles this or that, and worth every penny, I say.  I plan on going back, for sure. Next time, I'll head there on a Friday night, when the young and hip sip Jeff Haile's craft cocktails at the bar.  I wonder what that crowd will think of my thoughts on swaddling and nap time.

Dim Sum at The Source: Seriously Delicious Plates

I remember the first time I tried dim sum, like it was yesterday.  Only it was 1994 and I was in in the middle of my undergraduate experience, wearing flannel shirts, buck shoes, and jcrew jeans.  I basically looked like this.  A friend and I skipped Humanities 101 for a stop in Downtown Crossing to have the top of our earlobes pierced.  Ouch.  After what seemed like surgery without any anesthesia, my friend suggested we get dim sum.  Dim sum?  What's dim sum? I didn't want to sound like an ignoramus, so I casually said that "I loooove dim sum."  It should be noted that at that point in my life I called myself a sketchatairan, refusing to eat most meat.  Typical meals:  Celeste pizza and cheese sandwiches from Subway.  To say I had a limited palate is an understatement.  Obviously, I had never tried dim sum.

My friend, a Chinese American, guided me through lunch proudly, quietly boasting about food that was a part of her family's roots.  Dishes arrived at our table: brown blobs stuffed in dumplings, chicken feet, fish roe, and other unrecognizables wrapped in leaves.  Did I feel cosmopolitan?  No, I felt quesy.  The food was good, if I could get past my psychological limitations, but as an ignoramus trying new things it was unsettling.  Plus my earlobe was killing me.

My taste buds have grow up since then, and I can truly say that "I looove dim sum," but finding a great dim sum restaurant in the DC area has been difficult.  A few weeks ago, I tried the Saturday dim sum brunch at The Source, where Scott Drewno is serving up some seriously delicious plates.

Woodberry Kitchen

 
If I were a restaurant, I would be Woodberry Kitchen: a local ingredient-driven menu; worth the price; comfortable, but not casual; memorable and crave worthy.

I hate it when people describe restaurants at "ingredient-driven" (what else would drive it?), but for this kitchen, there is no other way to accurately describe the menu.  Take, for example, the Black Rock Farm peach and watercress salad with watermelon radishes and fennel.  Peaches so juicy, the dish didn’t need but a bit of lemon and oil to dress it.  Or, my dinner: delicate soft shell crabs, flanked by heirloom tomatoes, and perched on a giant crouton that was topped with just enough lemon, fennel mayonnaise, to make me consider asking for a little more on the side.  My sister ordered the roasted chicken served with kale, pan gravy, and a buttery biscuit – a solid plate of hearty food, and friend Denise did not mess around with a rib eye and a gratin of potatoes and leeks and homemade quark.  The potatoes were moan-out-loud good.

Estadio Favorites: Slushitos and Veggie Bocadillos

Photo: Stacy Zarin-Goldberg

One sip of my friend's slushito and I knew I was in for a treat at Estadio.  This modern day slushie, a combination of pumpkin, scotch, and sherry, tasted like a tangy version of red hot candies.  Wowsa.  My white sangria was almost as good.  And what an unusual combination: rosemary, tequila, apple, and white wine.  The mixologist behind these magical drinks should star in the remake of Cocktail.   Another round for these friends of mine.

Uncle Liu's Hot Pot (Plus, My Secret Plans)

In the middle of a congested strip mall, anchored by a Gold’s Gym, the Great Wall supermarket, and Unique Thrift store, sits Uncle Liu's Hot Pot, a blandly decorated restaurant where hungry diners cook their dinner tableside.  Hot pot—or Chinese fondue, as some call it—has been around for centuries.  Yet, I’m unaware of any other restaurants in the Washington region that specialize in the experience—and it is an experience.

I had my first hot pot with Uncle Liu.  It was not complicated or intimidating. Actually, it reminded me of college, when I had my first go at dim sum.  There were lots of oohs and ahhs and umms.  Hot pot goes like this: you order a big pot of broth, choosing a handful of flavors (spicy, mild, fish, and mushroom, among others); the broth heats up quickly on your tabletop propane burner.  Then you order raw servings of your favorite veggies, meats, and seafood ingredients, to cook in the hot pot.  Cooking time for each ingredient varies, but most are ready within two minutes.  When each piece is done, you remove it, plop it in dipping sauce, and then pop it in your mouth.  White or fried rice comes on the side.  On a recent trip, Marcus and I ordered beef, shrimp, broccoli, cabbage, veggie dumplings, enoki mushrooms, and lotus root. 

New Favorite Lunch Place: Mixt Greens

My new favorite salad place is Mixt Greens, located just south of Dupont Circle at 19th and M Streets.  Cucumber water is the first thing that greets you when you enter.  Grab a compostable cup, fill it up, and get in the zen line.